


Cognitive Dissonance Theory

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Coming Out, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin, Quorra and Tron are in the real world now, and Sam is really happy about that. Problem: he's had a crush on Tron for most of his life, and it's only gotten worse. He tries to find a way to relieve the tension and gets something better in return, but few things are rarely simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tron Knows Everything

Sam hesitates under the rolling door at the threshold of his apartment. "OK. Guess I'm going to work now," he calls out, waiting for some outcry so he has an excuse to stay home and not worry the day away at ENCOM like he had yesterday.

"Have a nice day, Sam!" Quorra chirps.

Tron nods solemnly. "Be safe."

Sam looks at him and they share a look between them, neither fully pleased with the situation. Sam isn't happy that he has to leave Quorra and Tron alone when they're still catching up on...well, everything, and Tron isn't thrilled that Sam and Alan are exposing themselves to so many unknown variables without (his) backup.

Quorra is probably the only one who genuinely doesn't mind, feeling safe in the apartment and trusting Sam and Alan can look after themselves.

Sam sighs. "Right. Have a...good day." The garage door grinds closed behind him.

 _Shit._

~

The thing is, he expected this to be harder. He hasn't lived with anyone except Marv since his eighteenth birthday, by his own choice. He likes his space. Suddenly having two house guests and Alan and his dad by every other night (which is more than he's seen Alan on a regular basis since Sam turned 18*) should be harder than it has been.

Sam doesn't mind at all. Something about the way Quorra and Tron react to everything (at first, both with a kind of awed curiosity, and then slowly but with increasing frequency, with some pretty varied differences according to their innate nature) keeps his attention engaged. Even his dad -- and the thing with his dad and Alan _definitely_ came out of left field for Sam, but he didn't begrudge them their privacy even as he made them promise not to be domestic in front of him for the sake of his sanity.

The chaos is actually helping him focus, keeps him from getting too bored even though work is some kind of bureaucratic hell, most days. He's really looking forward to the day when his dad is ready to throw back in with the company full time and they can split the duties.

It's a good thing it isn't as bad as he'd briefly expected it to be because, in one glaring way, the situation may be worse than he'd anticipated. He hasn't had any time to himself in six weeks. He hasn't had any time with _anyone else_ in a little longer than that, since he'd been planning his last big prank sending the OS out to the world before getting sucked into the Grid.

This is definitely a dry spell for him, considering the regularity he'd been getting laid with before the whole mess with...everything. That would be bad enough, and that was what he'd been expecting. What he hadn't expected was the way he was...responding...to Tron. _Tron,_ who had Alan's face, but somehow didn't remind Sam of Alan *ever,* and thank God, he had enough issues with his real father without adding that one to the mix.

The thing is, Sam's accustomed to his occasional thing for guys: he's a bit more prone to women, but if a dude caught his eye, it isn't a big deal.

Tron, well. That's a horse of another color. The Alan thing, for one. The tried-to-kill-me/brainwashed thing, for two. The remnants-of-hero-worship thing, for three. It's crazy. He's got three different versions of Tron's action figure packed up in the loft under his bed, and he's had three wet dreams about him last week, and one of them was about _Rinzler and the arena_.

Even Quorra had noticed his vague mania after that one, and her looks had been growing increasingly curious over the following days, which means it needs to stop. He needs to get laid.

~

 _"Hey guys! Just wanted to say I'm going to be late tonight. Sorry I missed you! Order take out, OK? But stick to the stuff we know you like for tonight, please? No experiments unless I'm there. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"_

~

The flavor of his last dream informs his choice of clubs.

 _Rigid_ doesn't mind the occasional show and it has rooms for the more heavy players. More importantly right now, Sam knows a few regulars who won't mind a little light play and couldn't care less if he says someone else's name. He makes sure his phone is on vibrate and nods to the bouncer as he passes him.

"Long time, kid."

Sam shrugs, his sweep of the club cut off by one of the regulars he knows. Rich isn't his ideal choice, but needs must and all. He'll be easy to get into a back room, anyway. "Been busy. You know how it is."

Rich nods casually. "Sure."

Sam shifts, impatience amped up by the discomfort and vague guilt for leaving Tron and Quorra alone for this. It all feeds his arousal, and Sam realizes that must be obvious on his face as a slightly cruel smirk spread over the other man's face.

" _That_ busy, huh."

Sam nods once, trying to keep the visible desperation to a minimum.

Rich laughs. "Let's go."

In the back room, Sam licks his lips and watches Rich thoughtfully for any cues. "If I call you something else..."

"Something else..." Rich echoes curiously, dropping his belt over the back of a chair.

"Yeah." Sam doesn't offer any other explanation.

Rich shrugs when he realizes that's all he's getting on the matter. "Whatever." He settles into the chair, pants undone but not pulled low. "Come here."

Sam kneels smoothly and buries his guilt under the coolness of the concrete floor through his jeans.

~

Sam's already blown Rich and tossed the condom, and Rich has him face first against the wall, arms up as a cushion between the wood paneling and his head. He's just a little bit taller than Sam, and still out of breath from his own orgasm as he pulls one out of Sam, and maybe Sam is imagining the wall of the arena, and Tron -- definitely Tron, not Rinzler -- showing Sam, with infinite care and gentleness, why it's better if Sam just accepts his overload like a good boy, but it works, for this moment, with his eyes closed and desperately wanting the fantasy.

So, if Sam IS thinking about that, he can be forgiven for panting out Tron's name once or twice, and groaning when Rich pinches him in amused retaliation.

What he doesn't know is that Quorra really was worried about him and when she got his message, she and Tron decided to trace his phone signal to ensure his wellbeing. He doesn't know Tron's on the other side of the thin wall, or that the DJ has taken a break and the lower volume of the live band does nothing to drown Sam out.

When he bursts in, Sam is looking that way and his eyes widen in shock and fear even as lightning drives down his spine as Tron's furious face fixes on his in the instant it takes for him to take in the situation.

The instant is long enough for Sam to come, knees weakening embarrassingly.

"Do you mind?" Rich asks, milking Sam through it considerately. "We're nearly done."

Tron's face tightens and shuts down. Sam flinches and looks away, turns his head even as he shifts his body away from the wall and puts his back to the door, stepping away from Rich (and putting a little more distance between him and Tron).

The room is silent while Sam struggles to get his shaking hands to work well enough through the aftershocks and fear to do up his jeans. The door closes sharply and he flinches, shoulders slumping faintly. "Fuck," he whispers, hands hanging low.

Movement flickers out of the corner of his eye and he looks up slowly, ready to blow Rich off as graciously as he can before running out there to try and explain this to Tron, and he freezes.

"Your shirt." Tron holds out the t-shirt Sam had tossed to the other side of the room earlier.

Sam meets his eyes, stunned into momentary silence and Tron waves the shirt a bit in emphasis. Sam automatically reaches up to take it, wide eyes still locked on Tron's. The program's face is unreadable, eyes faintly narrow and mouth firm, but not quite frowning.

"...thanks." Sam uses the excuse of pulling the shirt on to break eye contact.

"I thought he was hurting you," Tron says after a few minutes.

Sam nods. "I...I figured." He looks up briefly. "He wasn't. Uh. But why are you..." Here, he doesn't add.

Tron tilts his head, a move that reminds Sam of Rinzler more than any mannerism he'd copied from Alan. "Your behavior has been increasingly erratic. When we received your message and could not reach Alan-1 to ask his opinion, we decided it would be best to ensure your safety."

Sam closes his eyes. "You were worried."

"Yes."

God. He'd made them both worry so badly they'd risked breaking his order to stay in, and entered into the very alien world they were still learning about. He brought Tron _here_ , of all places, to see one of the ugliest parts of his sainted Users. "God, I'm....so, so sorry you had to hear.... _see_...that."

Shame and guilt sting his eyes. He can't remember why this had seemed like a good idea. Didn't he have enough, with his dad back, and Alan finally being proud of him again, and Quorra and Tron and ENCOM? Tron seeming to actually like him?

A tentative hand settles on Sam's shoulder, immediately pulling his attention up even though he finds it difficult to lift his head.

Tron's expression is a little softer now. "You have needs, Sam. I'm coming to understand the immediacy of such needs, in this world. It is, as Flynn says, nothing to be ashamed over."

Sam wants to say that that isn't what he's been beating himself up over for the last few minutes, but finds some of the nausea fades under Tron's lack of judgment or disgust. Maybe they aren't quite talking about the same thing, but Sam doesn't have to worry he's ruined this growing friendship completely. "Thanks."

Tron smiles faintly at him, and Sam's eyes flick to his mouth automatically, as they tend to when he isn't thinking about it.

Tron hums thoughtfully. "We should probably talk about that, though."

Sam closes his eyes. "Look. I'm not a creep, really, despite how this might look. I would never, ever bother you."

"You called my name."

"...yeah."

"Begging."

"...I. Yeah. Rich knows. It's a thing."

"Why?"

Sam's eyes burst open in something like resigned surprise. Tron just looks...curious. It's the same look he'd given the toaster the first time he saw it. The same look he'd directed at Marv and the bathroom fixtures.

" _Seriously?_ " Sam asks incredulously, and immediately regrets his instant response as Tron's smile fades and his face goes blank again. "No, no, I'm sorry, it's. You have every right to ask. I'm sorry. It's just."

Tron's mouth remains firm. "You do not have to tell me."

"Oh, God, this is awkward," Sam mutters, dragging a hand over his face and leaving it over his eyes. "OK. So, I. May have been a little in love with you, like. My whole life. Kid stuff, at first. You were my hero. I grew out of it, mostly, but I guess there was always a little part of me that was...looking."

"Looking?"

Sam presses his hand more firmly over his eyes. "For you. Or the person I thought you were? In the people I was dating. It's probably why it never worked out."

"Hm."

"Uh, right. Anyway. After what happened, you know, where you broke through a thousand years worth of programming and sacrificed yourself to save me and...and dad, and, you know, you nearly died to help us. And now we're living together, so I see you every day and you're even more amazing than I thought, but you're still...you stepped on Marv's squeaky toy and jumped three feet in the air the other day. It made it all more real, more...honest. I guess it's just. A little hard. Uh, _difficult._ " Hard was the more accurate description, but certainly not the more appropriate one.

Tron is quiet and Sam wonders if he's thinking over their interactions, trying to find proof that Sam has taken advantage of him in any way, and panics, dropping his hand. "I swear I never did _anything_ \--"

Tron smiles gently. "I know."

Sam blinks. "You know?"

"Mm. You have a good heart."

"...oh." People don't just say shit like that. What do you say back? "Thanks?"

"You came here to find release for your frustrations, then."

"Uh...yeah, one way to put it. I just needed to blow off some steam to make sure I didn't accidentally do anything...you know, bad."

"And you were thinking of me when that other User brought you to overload."

It isn't exactly a questions but Sam nods faintly, anyway. At this point, his cheeks may be permanently stained red with his humiliation.

"You have a good heart, but share a flaw with your father."

"I...really have no idea how I want you to end that thought."

"You always think you know best. Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

Sam stares at him. "Talk to you? Uh...you don't..."

"Answer the question, Sam."

It isn't often that Tron calls him by his first name, and it sends a shiver down Sam's spine every time he does. Even now. Maybe especially now, in this room that still smells like sex. "I didn't want to...to ruin this. Our friendship. Or take advantage."

Tron steps closer, not letting him back away simply by keeping his hold on Sam's shoulder tight. "You sounded...desperate, Sam."

Sam's stomach clenches in incredibly hopeful lust, but he doesn't get hard, thankfully, since he's still sensitive, but it's _Tron_.

Tron shifts even closer, so his chest brushes against Sam's. Their uncharacteristic physical closeness emphasizes that small height difference he never really notices between himself and Alan. He stares at Tron, eyes-wide with surprise as he takes in his expression. "Tron...?"

"I am not adverse to sharing this with you, Sam," Tron murmurs, smiling slightly. "Though you may understand I am not as familiar with the User version."

Sam takes a minute to process that consciously even as he starts to lean forward. Almost as quickly, he pulls back. "I can't--"

Tron lets him put a little space between them but keeps his grip firm, not letting Sam pull away more than a little. "Why not?"

Sam swallows, eyes sinking closed in this crazy whirlwind of thoughts. "It's just... _overloading_ or whatever with _other_ people, Tron. It's. It would be more. With you."

"A permanent uplink? Like Alan-1 has initiated with Flynn?"

 _...dad, oh yeah. He'll be super pumped about this whoooole situation._ "Yeah," Sam rasped. "So, you know, I understand if--"

"You are very young in some ways," Tron interrupts. "I would like to kiss you now, as that is a User habit I AM familiar with, and then take you home. It is more comfortable and we will have more time available to discuss permanent bonds."

"...huh?" Sam blinks.

Tron's mouth is soft against his and Sam finds himself focusing on that rather than the confusion and lingering guilt and shame. He's so gentle that Sam is surprised to find himself backed into the wall, arms pinned with that same deliberate, exacting care. His pulse races, heart high in his throat and Tron pulls away with a smile that's slightly sharper than his last.

"I was programed to be a quick learner, Sam. I want you to consider this on our journey home."

Sam blinks, tongue flicking out to chase after the lingering flavor of soda Tron may have left on his lips. "Well. _Yeah._ "

Tron doesn't release him right away. "You will not be coming back to this place."

The part of Sam that's been rebelling since 1989 points out that Tron isn't the boss of him, and they haven't worked anything out yet for Tron to fairly demand _anything_ of Sam. "OK."

~

Tron seems to be processing the information Sam had dumped in his lap. "Users generally establish permanent bonds between each other with the intent to form a family unit. This can be as small as the two Users--"

"Or, you know, _people,_ " Sam interrupts, mainly because he knows Tron still thinks of himself as a program and he's gotten into the habit of correcting him ever since they managed to design a patch for him based off of Quorra's double-helix code and pull him out into the real world.

Tron takes it in stride. "The two people, then, or much larger. It may or may not include biological offspring resulting from the link if the...people involved are genetically compatible."

That's a really oversimplified definition, but Sam doesn't want to get into adoption and surrogates right now. "There's a bit more, but for our purposes, that's correct."

Tron nods thoughtfully. "You wish, then, to establish a family unit with me?"

Sam gets this really crazy mental image of himself and Tron in black and white, and he's wearing heels and pearls. "Uh, well. Yeah. But I don't want to give you the impression that...uh, physical... _linking_ is really necessary for us to be a family."

Tron cocked his head. "I'm aware of that. You and Alan-1 do not link physically, yet it is still obvious he views you as slightly rebellious offspring. Similarly, I have also seen no evidence of a desire in you, Flynn or Alan-1 to link up to Quorra, yet you all care for her in a similar manner."

"...yeah." Sam realizes how wrong that could've gone and blesses Tron's observational abilities once again. "Right. Well, we care for you, too. So what I'm trying to say is, if you don't...you know, want to...uh. Link up with me? It won't change the fact that we're...members of a _really weird_ but perfectly functioning family unit." _Oh, what the fuck is coming out of my mouth? In what world does this make any sense?_

Tron looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then tilts his head. "...Sam, you do realize you leave us with unfiltered access to the internet every day, right?"

Sam blinks. "Huh?"

Tron laughs. "I know the difference between platonic bonds as well as casual sex and marriage."

Sam stares at him. "And you just let me stumble over that long-ass awkward explanation because...?"

Tron smirks. "It was funny."

Sam thinks about that for a minute and then shoves him off of the couch. Tron twists impossibly and lands on his feet, but it's the thought that counts.

Tron scans him with that laser-intensity, probably calculating the likelihood Sam will lash out again, and Sam tries to keep his face blank and threatening.

Tron, frustratingly, flops back down onto the couch in a strange, uniquely personal combination of Kevin's sprawl and Alan's forward-leaning perch. "I do have a few questions, though, if you don't mind."

Sam looks at him wryly and then glances over to the computer. "Seems like you can find out anything you want to without _my_ help..."

Tron smiles unrepentantly and shakes his head. "This question began with information I found on the internet, but I was uncertain if you would be uncomfortable if I asked."

"But something in the slightly kinky gay sex I was having says I'll be OK with it, huh?" Sam's mouth twists up and then he sighs and leans into the crook of the couch. "Knock yourself out, big guy."

"What is the purpose of denying orgasm?" Tron asks curiously. "Besides procreation, it is the point of sexual encounters between Users, is it not? Similarly, I do not understand the motivation to include pain or militaristic command structure in this aspect of User life. Pleasure, again, seems to be the ultimate goal. And why have one member have appreciable more power over the proceedings than the other, when both are partners in the experience?"

Sam sits still for a minute as he comprehends the shit storm he kicked up for himself, then he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes, laughs, and sends a silent prayer of thanks that Quorra had ended up at Alan's while Tron was looking for him.

After a moment, he drops his hand and looks at Tron, who is obviously ready to wait for his answers all night, now that he's found someone to ask.

 _...right. OK, BDSM and D/s for Dummies. God help me._

~  
 _On bondage and orgasm denial:_

 _"At it's most basic, these two are about trust. They're all about trust, I guess, but with bondage, there's an added element of potentially needing your partner to release you if something goes wrong, whereas in the other areas, it's generally your own desires that restrain you._

 _"For orgasm denial, you have to trust that your partner knows what they're doing and has a good reason for it. A general reason for it to happen is that it honestly does feel really good when you're forced to work for it."_

 _"...I see. And bondage?"_

 _"Sometimes people want to be able to relax their self-control and let someone or something else take it over, for a while."_

 _"Hm."_

 _On sadomasochism:_

 _"Oh, uh...heh. This is really a personal preference thing. Some people appreciate pain and pleasure, together. It makes the rush of endorphins more intense, I think."_

 _"That explains the masochism. The sadism?"_

 _"Hm. Power issues, maybe? I'm sorry, that's something I don't really have experience with."_

 _On dominance and submission:_

 _"...I don't doubt your claim, especially as you appear to be speaking from personal experience, but I find it strange to think that a User would be stimulated by taking orders."_

 _"Just...trust me on this one, OK?"_

 _"Of course."_

 _On discipline:_

 _"People respond to this differently. Personally, I'm not as comfortable with this element of fetish. But I guess people want to feel like they've done penance for their mistakes so they can let go of any guilt they have._

 _"It could be part of the whole dominance thing, too. Giving someone the authority to tell you what to do and pass judgment over you, knowing that they're going to bring you out all right at the other end of the tunnel."_

 _"Users are fascinating. You operate on so many levels simultaneously without crashing."_ **

~

"I have a final question," Tron says, an interminable time later.

Sam is glad for the break in the silence, though he hadn't had any issue waiting while Tron processed all the new information. "Sure thing, man. 's why we're here."

"Perhaps not a question so much as something I would like to confirm. If we engage in a relationship which includes physical interactions in that manner, as I hope to, what will you desire of our intercourse?"

Sam freezes. Part of him really hadn't expected Tron would be even vaguely interested still, after he really thought about how strange the whole thing was compared to the (he assumed) relatively simple matter of program's linking up. "You still want to?"

Tron socks his head curiously. "Of course," he murmurs. "I enjoy our time together and consistently find myself aroused in your company."

 _...oh._ Sam can't really deal with that and swallowed the burning questions that involve _what? When? Why haven't we been fucking for weeks? No. Tron asked a question. Answer the question, Sam._ "If we...do this, then I want...whatever you want. People have to agree on things together for them to work in the bedroom like that. I like that kind of play a lot, now and then, but I don't need it all the time either."

Tron nods, smiling. "That seems to be a practical way to consider needs and partnership. It's promising. I believe I would need to work my way up to doing even minor damage to you, even in the name of pleasure."

Sam stares at the man, the one who'd been a program and has had his world turned upside down many, many times in his long life, and realizes Tron is offering to try something completely alien to him because he wants to enjoy that. With _Sam._

It's both humbling and blisteringly hot, and Sam can't stop himself from lunging forward and wrapping his arms around Tron's shoulders to anchor himself as he presses his mouth to Tron's. He's vaguely aware of Tron steadying their combined weight against the back of the couch, but that fades when his _other_ hand slides up under the back of Sam's shirt and starts stroking the small of his back.

The last coherent thought Sam has for a while is to bless the existence of the internet.


	2. Coda: Well, This Isn't Awkward At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely into their new relationship and they're already coming out. How progressive.

Quorra finds out on accident when she flings herself under the rolling door like she's in the last good Indiana Jones movie. "Did you find out what was--OH."

Sam goes from half-awake surprise to unadulterated shock and flips over the arm of the couch automatically as he realizes the sound he'd heard was the door opening, and Quorra can fit through an obscenely small space. He crouches behind the cover of the couch automatically, looking up at Quorra with wide eyes as the rest of him catches up.

Quorra blinks and Sam realizes he needs his pants. Thankfully, they're in arms' reach: he starts the awkward process of pulling them on without standing and flashing Quorra again, eyes flicking between Tron and Quorra in quick glances as the door finishes grinding open.

Tron is sitting on the couch, supremely unaffected by his own nudity or Quorra's abrupt entrance. Sam can't help but appreciate the sight while reminding himself to have another talk on acceptable levels of nudity with other people. He doesn't want other people staring at that perfect body with their greedy eyes.

"Uh, hey, Quorra," he says after a minute, looking at her awkwardly. "I know I'm supposed to be at work, sorry--"

Quorra lets out a sound that should only be made by dolphins and starts jumping up and down. " _Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh--I have **gay friends**!_ "

Sam's eyes are roughly the size of his face and even Tron is frowning uncomfortably at the sound. "Quorra!"

Quorra sticks the next landing and holds it, but she's still pretty obviously not listening. "This is so exciting! Can we go shopping together now? Will you explain why female Users wear spikes and tell me what my best colors are?"

"Quorra!" Sam shouts, snapping his fingers. Quorra freezes and Sam holds up his index finger. "First, that is all a stereotype based upon popular conceptions of homosexuality, OK? Real gay people have all different kinds of hobbies and skill sets, just like anyone." He flips up his second finger. "Second, Tron and I aren't gay -- or, well. I don't know about Tron, actually," he realizes, glancing over. Tron shrugs unhelpfully and Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever: I'm bi. But yes, Tron and I are going to try...uh," he fumbles a bit with the term 'boyfriends' because a) _Tron_ , and b) Sam is actually not a seventh grade girl. " _Being together_ like that."

Quorra opens her mouth and Sam arches his eyebrows meaningfully, flipping up his ring finger. "Third..." he licks his lips and tries not to remember the number of things that can go wrong, not least of which will be his father and Alan's reaction to him corrupting Tron. He'd intended to say something like, _we just figured this out, you can't tell anyone_ and instead, says, "thanks for being excited."

Quorra smiles widely and Tron tips his head along the back of the couch to look at Sam with frank approval and appreciation. Sam can't help but smile back at them. Then he blinks and rubs his forehead. " _Pants,_ Tron. Quorra is not an exception to that rule."

After Tron finishes rolling his eyes and puts on some pants, while he and Quorra have an embarrasingly frank discussion about the new perspective Tron has on User sexuality, Sam forces himself to think about the situation practically. If he isn't going to swear Quorra to secrecy -- and even if he did, considering her poker face -- Kevin and Alan are going to know about the change in Sam and Tron's relationship before the end of the day. At the latest, by the next time they see Quorra in person.

Resentment bubbles up before his good sense takes it by the neck and shakes: so what if everyone knows they're trying this? OK, more realistically, so what if his dad knows they're trying this? If he approves, gravy. If not...

Nothing will change, really. Sam hasn't fully adjusted to having his dad in his life yet, anyway. If he wants to be a hypocrite, that's his choice. Sam hadn't given _him_ any grief over the thing with Alan that had come out of _nowhere_.

(OK, it's kind of obvious in retrospect what with Alan's _Penelope_ impression, but he'd never given much thought to it before walking in on Alan pressing his dad against the back of the couch.)

Right. Sam had been an adult over his father and his pseudo-father making the beast with two backs, and his dad should know him a little bit, by now. Enough to know he would never get into anything with Tron lightly or carelessly.

Trying to tell himself he means every word, Sam forces himself to call Alan's house. It rings through to the answering machine, so either they're screening the calls for reporters or they're outside. "Uh, hey. This is Sam. Can we get together today? It's kind of important. Nothing like that time with the storage locker, Alan, promise. Thanks."

~

"...what?" Kevin asks, voice deceptively mild.

"Me and Tron," Sam repeats. "Tron and I. Us."

"There's an _us_ , now," Alan says, looking between Sam and Tron thoughtfully. "That's...good?"

Alan's tone is sort of cautiously, tentatively pleased. Of course, he's been encouraging Sam to get a life for years, so maybe he's just glad Sam has officially removed any concern he might have about Sam's supposed celibacy.

It wasn't like Sam could exactly tell him about his on-again, off-again relationships with regulars at places like Rigid, Hail Mary's, or Brunie's Pub. Well, he could have, but volunteering information about his sex life to his father-figure is not something Sam has _ever_ wanted to do.

That makes this whole awkward situation even more of a black comedy. Quorra is still excited, hasn't picked up the layer of tension under Flynn's calm. Too used to the old man always being on the ball, Sam figures.

Alan's obviously aware of it, though, from the concerned half-looks of Kevin he takes from the corner of his eyes before he turns his attention outwardly to Sam. "How, uh, how long...?"

Sam forces a bright smile. "About 12 hours."

Alan blinks. "Oh. That's...fast."

"I walked in on them," Quorra explains cheerfully, then paraphrases one of the less surreal conversations Sam has had today. "Sam didn't think I could really keep it a secret, and he isn't ashamed of it. Right, Sam?"

Sam sees Tron move in his peripheral, but before he can turn to look, Tron is settling on the arm of the chair. "We figured it was best to get the big reveal out of the way on our own terms," he says. His thigh presses against Sam's arm deliberately.

Sam leans into it, making a note to ask how Tron is so good with nonverbal cues. His smile comes easier, for all that it's rueful. "I would've liked some time for us to figure out...everything, but when has forward thinking ever worked out for me, anyway, right?"

Alan smiles faintly in response as he watches them. When Sam looks, Kevin forces a ghost of a smile and Sam sighs. "Look, guys: Tron and I have already had the talk about physical relationships not being necessary to show affection and all of that. I'm _not_ taking advantage." The last part must be colored with his own remaining paranoia, because it comes out more forceful than he intends.

Alan can see he's upset and immediately holds up his hand, stopping Sam. "Whoa, hold on, Sam," he says, brow furrowing faintly. "Nobody said you were."

Sam's eyes flick to his father automatically, and Alan, maybe tellingly, has to check to make sure Kevin isn't doing anything that would contradict him.

Kevin blinks after a few minutes of silence, realizing he's being stared through an uncomfortable silence and clearing his throat. "Uh, sorry. What were we saying?"

Alan frowns. "I was just telling Sam how nobody is accusing him of taking advantage of anything."

Kevin is quiet for a moment, but focused on the words. Sam can see him weighing them. "...no," he says finally. "No, of course not."

 _Took a while to get there, huh, Dad?_ Sam wonders, anger trying to rise again. "Right," he says, looking back at Alan and trying to push back the sinking feeling in his gut.

Tron squeezes Sam's shoulder and leans forward. "To clarify: we are telling you as a courtesy to avoid any shocks later. Neither Sam or I are of an age which would require your permission in this."

Alan's head tilts curiously as though something just occurred to him, and he opens his mouth before he hesitates. "Of course."

 _That was definitely not what he meant to say,_ Sam thinks, looking at Alan frankly before he lets it go. He doesn't need to borrow trouble when he's already got a storm brewing. "Dad?" he says quietly. "You doing OK over there?"

Kevin shifts on the couch, dragging his eyes away from where Tron's hip rubs against Sam's arm. "Yeah," he says. "This just. I gotta say, kiddo, this kind of threw me for a loop. Sorry. Of course you're both adults and as long as you're happy, that's what matters. I'm just going to need to get my head around it, is all."

Sam presses his lips together, not entirely convinced but not willing to rock the boat. "Sure, dad. Whatever you need." He looks between Kevin and Alan and before he can think better of it, like he can't help himself, he hears himself say, "I guess good taste runs in the family."

Kevin winces.

~

Marv understands something is different when he follows Sam upstairs and realizes Tron is behind him, but he doesn't fully grasp the situation until Sam settles into bed in a pair of old boxers, and Tron sits down in the spot he usually lands on.

Marv looks at Tron curiously until Tron looks down at him.

Sam glances over when Tron doesn't lay down immediately and then pushes himself up on his elbow. "Oh, man. Uh, Marv usually sleeps up here with me," he explains, cheeks heating. "Was never an issue before, since I haven't brought anyone back here since I got him."

Tron nods thoughtfully. After a minute of silent communication between dog and program-turned-something (ISO? Man?), Tron pats the bed next to him.

Marv understands that well enough and makes the jump.

They lay in an unexpectedly comfortable silence once they worked out the logistics and compromises necessary to share a double bed between two grown men and one smallish dog. Sam attributes it mostly to Marv, who is pretty obviously sure that as long as he still gets to walk all over Sam at any given time, the world is perfect.

"This is nice," Tron says after a while.

Sam is half asleep already, but he wakes up enough to mumble his agreement.

"I do not believe I would like to have intercourse with him in the bed, however," Tron continues.

Sam winces. "Yeah, Tron: no sex in front of the dog is actually an unspoken rule."

"Ah." Tron shifts, curling around Marv's happy little nest between them, and slides his arm beneath the covers and the pillows so it's under Sam's head. "That's fine then."

Sam feels something soft and warm against the back of his neck and is really glad the darkness hides any evidence of the heat in his cheeks or the sudden sting in his eyes. "Goodnight," he says quietly.

"Yes," Tron murmurs against his skin, then resettles against the pillows.

Chest aching pleasantly, it takes Sam a while to fall asleep. He listens to Tron's steady breaths and Marv's wheezing snore until he fades out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't work in all of the bonuses I wanted to in the main story, so this is the first coda. The next one should focus solely on Alan and Kevin.


	3. Coda: I Feel Like Dorothy (If She Rode the Tornado Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan and Kevin discuss the changes in Sam's life.

They leave Sam's apartment after he promises he and Tron are coming to dinner tomorrow night. Quorra is winding down and Alan is trying to fight exhaustion, so he puts the radio on and nobody complains about the jazz.

"It's good about Sam and Tron," Quorra says, apropos of nothing in the middle of the journey. "Being together I mean. They seemed happy when I interrupted them."

Alan blinks distantly as his brain slogs through his long day at work and that almost torturously awkward conversation at Sam's to comprehend the question and meets her incredible blue eyes briefly in the rearview. "Yeah," he murmurs. "If he and Tron can be happy, then it's definitely a good thing."

He looks back at the road, slowing up for a red light and recalling Shawna, Heather, and Alex. And those were only the ones Sam had been willing to introduce to him. He sighs. "Sam hasn't had...a lot of luck, not in that area, anyway. He deserves a break."

He can feel Kevin's curious stare and meets his eyes briefly before turning back to the light, telling him silently to wait until they can close a door behind them for answers.

"Oh," Quorra says, sounding vaguely surprised. The light changes and Alan eases off the brake and onto the gas as she continues. "I wouldn't have expected that. I'm glad he and Tron have each other, then. They make good partners. Sam is a competent fighter and is very good at explaining the material world."

Alan snorts, but he finds himself thinking it over again, and finds himself smiling. "I'm pretty sure there's more to it than that," he says, following the familiar route back to his house, even this late, with the ease of long familiarity. He'd been called to Sam's place later and for worse reasons than an awkward attempt to be responsible and open with the people he loved. If nothing else, he wouldn't need to break out the borax powder this time. Definitely a plus.

"Do you need to pick anything up?" Alan thinks to ask after a while. This was all planned out a bit last minute, and he doesn't mind Quorra staying over, but isn't sure they have all of things she might need.

Quorra is smiling brightly at his reflection in the mirror when he checks, and tells him not to worry about her.

Trusting her to know herself and him well enough to say something if she needs to, and recognizing the tract playing, Alan relaxes into the drive and drifts with the sax solo. He and Kevin are going to be up late and he wants to be in a good place mentally when they talk, or it's going to turn into one of their blowouts.

~

"Tell me about Sam," Kevin says, coming to a stop in the middle of their bedroom.

Alan finishes closing the bedroom door and turns, brow furrowing curiously. "Tell you what about him?" he asks, working his tie loose enough to slip over his head. "I already told you everything."

Kevin waves a hand and heads down the length of the room. "Facts, man, facts: mom and dad died when he was 12, he lived with you and Lora until he was eighteen and moved out immediately; stuck around during your divorce; disappeared after dropping out. Yearly pranks on the board."

He sounds frustrated. Alan watches him pace as he carefully unbuttons his shirt and hangs it in on the hook on the back of the bedroom door.

"I need..." Kevin's pace slows but his hands clench into fists and relax at inconstant intervals while Alan removes his belt.

He sounds tortured. "Kevin?"

"Who _is_ he, Alan?" he finally forces out, coming to a stop."What is he _like?_ I missed so much, and I don't...I don't even know how much of what I remember is _real,_ man."

Alan drops his belt and crosses the room to him, pulling him into a fierce clasp Kevin returns immediately. After a moment, Alan forces himself to pull back far enough to meet Kevin's eyes. "Hey, stop: everything else, he's still your kid."

Kevin looks up at him, hands tight on Alan's arms. His expression is painfully doubting. "I don't...Alan, I'm not that great a person," he says quietly, voice rough with repressed emotion. "I mean, I try, but...look what happened. How could I have ignored all of that?"

Alan waits for him to refocus on the external before continuing. "You didn't predict a dynastic coup," he says, head tilting. "Yeah, what normal American game programmer wouldn't have seen that one coming?" Kevin rolls his eyes but Alan continues. "You held out for a thousand years, Kevin. You didn't let him catch you or fully realize his goal. You _got out._ You came back to me, to _Sam._ "

His throat is getting thick which all of the emotion, so he clears it and takes a breath. "So he isn't the seven year old you left behind: he's still your son. He's stubborn and impulsive and _smart_ , God, he's smart. He ran rings around the professors at CalTech, you can bet that."

Kevin smiles reluctantly. "He's smarter than me."

Alan considers him for a moment, and then nods. "Yeah. Doesn't mean you don't have plenty to offer. He still needs you." The second hardest part of Kevin being gone was knowing, _knowing_ that Sam needed more than Alan could give him, even though Sam had never said anything about it. It had been in his reluctant tone every time Alan had to drop him back at his grandparents' house, and after he'd moved in, it had been in the silence when Alan had walked him and Jet over to a neighbor's house so he and Lora could argue in peace.

Alan doesn't fool himself: it wasn't his presence in Sam's life that raised him up to be the kind of man who rescued stray dogs and supported as many charities as he could afford. He and Sam talk more than he and Jet, after all.

Kevin hasn't asked yet, but Alan's seen the curiosity on his face when they pass Jet's old room, and knows it's only a matter of time. Not now, though.

"Alan, I don't...I don't know what to _do_ ," Kevin admits. "I really don't think it's smart for Sam and Tron to just...jump into this. I mean, he can't know what he's getting into, and after everything else I've done to him..."

Alan blinks, something in the wording pricking his curiosity, and he rubs Kevin's shoulder and then squeezes gently. Kevin pauses and Alan cocks his head. "Who are you concerned about?" he asks, eyebrows arching faintly. "Because the only thing you've put Sam through is disappearing."

Kevin swallows and Alan closes his eyes. "Ah. I think I understand a bit better, now."

"What?" Kevin asks,

Alan puts a little more space between them, mind racing. "Your issue with Sam and Tron is really your issue with you and Tron. I just don't know what exactly--"

Kevin's head jerks back in surprise before he scowls. "Hey, man, I _never_ \--"

Alan's gut eases with that reassurance: apparently, he hadn't realized how worried he'd been about that. "OK, OK. But I'm still right, aren't I? Now I know what it isn't, tell me what it _is_."

"I...Tron came to me _weeks_ before Clu's coup. He tried to tell me things weren't going as well as I thought, that something was up with Clu and the ISOs, and I just...ignored him. I convinced him he was imagining things, because if something was wrong with Clu, that meant there was something wrong with the way I programed him, right?" Kevin pulls away from Alan completely and drops to sit on the bed. "He trusted me, believed in me more than his own judgment, and look what happened to the poor guy."

Alan closes his eyes briefly, trying not to think about his own horror when he'd understood the full reality of Tron's situation. Then he opens them and bulls his way between Kevin's legs to stand with his legs bumping the mattress and reels Kevin back in with one hand on his shoulder and the other stroking through the thick, soft hair at the back of his neck.

Kevin reluctantly gives in and pushes his face into Alan's stomach. Alan closes his eyes against the tangle of emotions that rushes to the surface at the sight of his bowed, gray-haired head. _Ahh, Flynn. We were so young...who could have predicted this?_

He gives himself a moment to get his act together before he gently tugs Kevin back a bit and uses the grip in his hair to angle his head up. "Yes, you were naive, and overbearing, and _stubborn_ , but two of those three things are actually quite endearing."

Kevin's mouth twitches with the ghost of a smile Alan gladly returns, looking down on his upturned face. "Your mistake was trying to go it alone. You ignored Tron's advice, like you said, and Clu was the problem. Who else was there to call you out?"

Kevin's smile came more ruefully. "Thanks for pulling your punches, man."

Alan smirks and pulling gently on the fistful of hair he's still holding. "That's not why you love me."

Kevin's eyes narrow with undeniable interest and some of the crushing guilt slips away from his face.

Alan is definitely glad he's feeling better, but they should settle this tonight before they distract themselves too thoroughly. At least the boost from the heat on Kevin's face has given him back some energy for after they finish here. "You know all that, though. What I don't think you realize is how much your guilt is affecting how you think. I want you to close your eyes and really think about Sam and Tron. Do you honestly think Sam would -- or _could_ \-- subconsciously or accidentally manipulate Tron into a relationship? Let alone _purposefully_. I know you've seen his poker face by now."

Kevin snorts, mouth twisting wryly and Alan shares a look of sympathetic disbelief with him. Sam really has zero ability with verbal subterfuge. He could plan a heist on a company with the best security in the world, but accuse him of looking through your browser history for his Christmas present and he'd fold like a house of cards.

No, the kid has worn his heart on his sleeve his entire life: he's worse in that way than Kevin has ever been.

Kevin leans forward and sighs into Alan's stomach, breath warm and damp even through Alan's undershirt. After a minute, he looks up, that neat beard Alan is still getting used to dragging roughly over the fabric. His brow furrows in reluctant consideration. "So...you think I'm projecting?"

Alan nods. "Just a little."

Kevin closes his eyes and ducks his head back into Alan, hiding his eyes. Alan runs his fingers through his hair and scratches gently over his scalp and lets him process. After a while, he sighs again, and mumble "shit," into Alan's stomach.

Alan laughs softly, relief easing the tension in his shoulders, and pats the back of his head comfortingly.

"Sam's a good kid," Kevin says, pulling away to look up at Alan.

Alan nods, and Kevin continues, "he's had shit luck with relationships, and from the way Tron acted, he talked Sam into it."

Alan nods again.

"I'm a dick."

Alan snorts. "Sorry, Kevin. We thought you knew."

Kevin huffs and turns his head, pulling Alan's hand off of his shoulder so he can kiss his palm. "Thanks for setting me straight."

Alan smiles slowly, and deliberately removes his glasses with his other hand. "I know how you can really thank me."

Kevin's own eyes narrow as he takes them from Alan and sets them on the dresser blindly.

~

Later, Alan is half asleep when he feels Kevin shift in bed beside him. "So...what happened with the storage locker?"

Alan wakes up from the strength of the horror and exasperation that never fails to accompany that memory, and covers his eyes with a groan. "You think Sam's place is bad now? It has nothing on the last one..."

**Author's Note:**

> *1998: the year Alan and Roy co-founded FLYNN LIVES. Also the year Sam moved to his own place.  
> **This whole section is Sam trying to delicately explain the nature of these alternative lifestyles to someone who knows he experiments with them. It's awkward, he's unprepared, and I doubt he's ever thought about his desires this way before. Sorry if any of this offends anyone.
> 
> This was inspired by [the hero-worship prompt](http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3950.html?thread=2944366#t2944366) on the Tron kink meme, which has already received/is in the process of receiving an incredible fill that gives me vague inadequacy issues. I really wanted to work in more of the reactions, but it felt like it would be a different fic. Maybe a sequel, if I can work it out in my head, which would include some on-screen Kevin/Alan and Kevin trying to balance being open-minded and supportive with being over-protective and not sure who he's more worried about, and Quorra (who wants to be involved desperately).
> 
> Also, this is self-edited, so please let me know if I missed any errors.


End file.
